


drinks after dessert

by queenhomeslice



Series: Good to the Last Drop [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Lactation, M/M, Male Lactation, Negotiations, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Pining, Porn With Plot, Promptis - Freeform, handjob, more of niflheim's weird experiments folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:07:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28065246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: In order to secure Lucis' terms of the peace treaty with Niflheim, Ardyn challenges Noctis to partake in a strange ritual.
Relationships: Ardyn Izunia/Loqi Tummelt, Gladiolus Amicitia/Loqi Tummelt, Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Series: Good to the Last Drop [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2062752
Comments: 18
Kudos: 49





	drinks after dessert

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way. 
> 
> ______
> 
> This is so fucking dirty and I don't even know what to say. Nothing. I have no excuse, nothing to justify my unholy peversions. Read the tags, and good fuckin' luck I guess.

“Ugh, I hate this,” Noctis laments, folding his arms. Their private train car is quiet except for the gentle rumble of wheels on tracks that are racing across the vast Niflheim landscape. Ignis sits beside him with an open laptop, one Bluetooth earbud in his ear, calling into a conference call with Regis and the council back in Lucis. Gladio’s across from him, reading as usual; Prompto’s by the window, across from Noctis, snapping pictures with his camera’s “action mode.” 

Ignis taps his earbud and turns to the prince. “I know, Noct. But I’m quite proud of you for agreeing to meet with the Imperial Chancellor and negotiate a peace treaty. Although your father may not have said as much, his eyes held volumes. You are the prince that Lucis needs you to be.”

Noctis huffs, but he can’t help the quiet smile that spreads over his face anyway, even as he keeps his arms folded. He flicks his gaze to Prompto, who looks like a kid in a candy store. He's surprised that Gladio hasn’t complained about all of his wiggling—his blond best friend is a five-foot-eight cup of pure espresso mixed with adrenaline and the boundless energy of twenty dogs. Prompto must feel Noct’s eyes on him because he manages to rip his gaze away from the cold train window and smile at Noctis, pale freckled face flushing the cutest shade of pink, violet-blue eyes blown out wide. _Damn_. He must really be excited about these landscape pictures. Noctis wishes that they could take a trip around Lucis so that Prompto can take all the wildlife shots he can stand. He files the request away for later, when he’s mentally prepared to ask his father for a vacation. 

“It’ll be okay, Noct,” says Prompto, momentarily calming his excitement. “We’re here with you. I know you can stand up to Ardyn and defend Lucis’ terms.”

“Woah, look who’s been hangin’ around Iggy,” Gladio says with a smirk, elbowing the blond. 

“Hey man!” Prompto laughs, rubbing his ribs. “I’m in the inner circle now, I gotta know this stuff!”

Gladio licks his fingertips and turns the page in his thick, worn paperback. “Sure you’re not just trying to impress the Princess?”

Noctis rolls his eyes at the nickname but doesn’t miss how Prompto goes from pink to pizza sauce-red. 

“ _Dude_ ,” Prompto mumbles, turning back to his camera and the passing forests of Niflheim. “Not cool.”

Gladio snickers like a child with a secret, but Noctis only shrugs and continues to look at Prompto, wondering why Gladio’s suggestion made him blush. Prompto doesn’t need to do _anything_ to impress Noctis—not the first day of high school, and not now. Noctis likes him just as he is. 

The reception from the Imperials isn’t warm (not that Noctis expected a red carpet and fanfare), but it’s...cordial, which is saying a lot for Ardyn and Emperor Aldercapt. Attendants greet them at the train station and whisk them into an armored car, driving down foreign streets until they reach the Emperor’s sky-high home. Noctis and his entourage are greeted with at least a modicum of courtesy when they take the long ride up the elevator of Zegnautus Keep and enter the throne room, attendants and various guards bowing and murmuring greetings to the delegation from Lucis.

Brigadier Generals Uldor and Tummelt flank His Imperial Majesty, who is standing a few feet in front of his throne, with Commander Highwind and two of her men standing behind Chancellor Izunia, off to the side. Noctis bristles at the smirking purple-haired man—Ardyn has _always_ given him the creeps—and turns to the Emperor, bowing politely, and inviting his three retainers to do the same. To his credit, Aldercapt returns the gesture, royal for royal, and steps forward on shaky legs. Uldor rushes to his side and gives him his arm, helping the elderly man to steady himself. 

Noctis observes his enemies and their stark-white attire (with the exception of Ardyn, who looks like he went through a thrift store and bought every piece of patterned clothing available; and Aranea Highwind, who’s wrapped in tight black dragoon armor). They don’t seem to be particularly overjoyed at his presence, but he doesn’t get the feeling that they’re going to try and assassinate him or anything. Most of them look just sort of...bored. 

“Welcome, young Prince,” Aldercapt rasps out. “I had so hoped that I would speak with your father on these matters.”

“My apologies, your Radiance,” says Noctis, the strange title rolling off his tongue a little rougher than Ignis had coached him. He clears his throat. “King Regis has been in ill health these recent months. I hope you are not offended by my presence in his stead.”

Aldercapt smiles tightly and shakes his head. “Of course not. You’ll be king one day, won’t you? The crown of Lucis is the crown of Lucis. If you act in full authority with you father’s blessing, then by all mean, your word is as good as any.”

Noctis bows again. “Thank you, your Radiance.”

Emperor Aldercapt flicks his tired blue eyes up to General Uldor at his side. “Caligo, see that our esteemed guests are shown to their lodgings. They should want for nothing, do you understand?”

The surly military leader bristles, as if the thought of being _nice_ to Lucians is making him break out into hives, but he salutes nonetheless. “Yes, Imperial Majesty.”

Aldercapt nods again to Noctis and his retainers, and turns. Uldor leads him back to his cold, hard throne, where the emperor slumps, leaning to the side with his head in his hand as if he’s just run a marathon. 

“If you’ll _do_ be so kind as to follow me,” says Ardyn with a wide grin that makes Noct’s hair stand on end. “I can assure you that nothing but the best bedchambers have been prepared for our dear guests of Lucis.”

Noctis frowns but bites his tongue and only murmurs a “Thank you” as he and his friends follow Ardyn Izunia from the throne room. 

Noctis flops on the king bed and groans. 

“Noctis,” says Ignis shouldering some of their duffle bags that the attendants had taken from them before they’d met with Aldercapt and the others. He looks to Gladio as the shield comes in with the rest. 

“M’tired,” says Noctis.

Prompto is over by the window, taking shots of the sprawling capital city of Gralea, bouncing on his heels. 

“Good thing these peace talks aren’t until tomorrow,” says Gladio, dropping the luggage. “If they woulda started tonight, the only _peace_ would be between your head and the dining room table.” 

“Ha _ha,_ ” says Noctis, but even Ignis is chuckling at Gladio’s smart mouth. 

Prompto turns, “Woah, Iggy. Was that a...laugh?”

Ignis slips off his gloves and moves to one of the armchairs in the corner of the room, sitting neatly. “Forgive me,” says Ignis, smiling. “Gladio’s wit does seem to worm its way past my practiced façade.” 

Gladio snorts and discards his short-sleeved black jacket, giving the imperial room a full glimpse of premium Lucian beefcake. Prompto quickly whips his head back to the window and lifts his camera, but not before Ignis witnesses a quick swipe of his pink tongue over his lips. 

The rest of their night is quiet and relatively undisturbed, with a light dinner being brought to their room by a few soldiers. Gladio pushes the two king beds together, and Noctis and his retainers fall into a nervous sleep. 

The peace talks begin at 8 am sharp the next morning—Emperor Aldercapt is only present for the first few hours before descending into a coughing fit. Uldor rushes to his side and ushers him out, leaving Noctis and Ignis with Ardyn and a few other minor lords of the emperor’s council. Prompto and Gladio are dressed to the nines in standard Kingsglaive fatigues (without the thick, long-sleeved jackets) instead of their usual Crownsguard garb. They’re standing just a couple of feet behind Noctis, alongside Loqi Tummelt and Aranea Highwind, who flank Chancellor Izunia. Loqi mostly just sneers at them every so often, but Aranea is cordial enough and talks Gladio and Prompto up to pass the time. 

There’s a break at 1 pm for lunch; Prompto and Gladio join Noct and Iggy at the far end of the long table with the sandwiches and imported teas that had been brought in for both parties. Ardyn and the rest of the military attendants sit on the opposite end. 

“So,” Prompto whispers low, bumping his shoulder against Noctis, who yawns three times before he can even take a bite of his club. “Howzit goin’?”

“Boring as shit,” Noctis says. He’s pressed into his black pinstripe suit, golden epaulets and knee brace and all, and Prompto can’t stop staring. 

Noctis just looks so _good_. And then he looks back to Gladio’s thick, powerful legs in the nearly thigh-high boots that match his own, and leans more into Noctis to keep from swooning. Ignis is—well, Ignis is _always_ dressed like he’s about to meet a foreign delegation for peace treaties. His purple coeurl-print shirt is spotless and wrinkle-free beneath his black suit and silver gloves. Ignis eats quickly—he doesn’t say it, but his eyes and his body language clearly indicate fatigue and exasperation. Prompto was only mildly paying attention to the talk, but Ardyn and Noct seemed to be at a standstill for a long time, with neither side happy and willing to accept each other's terms. 

Twelve hours later, at eight pm, both parties move into a much more formally-decorated dining room, and a full five-course meal is served. Ardyn is eternally cordial, making sure that Noctis and his friends are comfortable and that the dinner is to everyone’s liking. Emperor Aldercapt even joins them briefly, making small talk while picking at the soup and salad appetizer. 

“Aaaaaaah,” Ardyn sighs in contentment, patting his stomach and stretching as the final course is taken away. Dessert had been tiramisu, an assortment of macaroons, triple-layer chocolate cake with a side of vanilla ice cream, three different berry cobblers, and apple pie. Ardyn gives the attendants a knowing look, shooting the same curious expression to Commander Highwind, and she bows to both parties and departs along with the rest of the staff. The dining room is left with only Ardyn, General Tummelt, and Noctis and his friends. 

“I do hope your delicate Lucian palate has found tonight’s dinner agreeable, your Highness,” Ardyn continues, turning in his chair to face Noct’s side, putting one booted foot on top of his knee. He spreads his arms wide and grins. 

Noctis swallows his hot chocolate and smirks. “It was very good. Thank you, Chancellor.”

Ardyn chuckles. “I’m quite pleased you think so. Although, I do think our negotiations could have gone better today, don’t you think?”

Noctis frowns. “Lucis’ terms are fair. I am acting in the best interests of my people. The allowances that we’re giving to Niflheim, despite the frequent attacks on our borders and the bombing of Galahd, are quite generous, considering.” The prince leans back and folds his arms. “It’s _your_ proposal that is outrageous, Ardyn.”

Ignis leans to the side and places a hand on Noct’s shoulder. “Now, Noct, perhaps—”

“No, Iggy,” Noctis says, shrugging him off. “I did it your way for twelve goddamn hours. It’s my way now.”

Ardyn just snickers and shakes his head. “Boy, you are _such_ like your father. Noble and headstrong, shooting first and asking questions later.” The Chancellor taps his chin, and then looks back over his shoulder at a very flustered-looking Loqi Tummelt. 

Noctis stares. Why is he so fidgety? He’d been sullen and aloof all day, like every other time Noctis has seen the short blond general. What’s going on? He tenses up on instinct, hoping that Gladio will be fast enough to place a call to the plain clothes glaives that are in the hotel across the street from the floating fortress, if he and Ardyn try anything stupid. 

“But I’m a flexible man, Highness,” Ardyn continues with a quick crook of his finger in Loqi’s direction. The general walks forward slowly, stopping at Ardyn’s chair. “But, forgive our negotiations for just a moment. I must ask you if you’re ready for the milk that comes with your dessert.”

Noctis tilts his head—and for some reason, Gladio’s chuckling on the other side of Ignis, who must be elbowing him in the ribs because he’s mumbling gruff _ow_ s as he laughs. “I don’t...understand?” He looks at his mug of hot chocolate, and his empty glass of milk he’d had with dinner. “We’ve already had milk. I thought dessert was over.”

“Ah-ah-ah,” says Ardyn, wagging his finger as if Noctis is a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. “This milk is much...sweeter. And is obtained in a much more sensual way.” 

Ardyn’s suggestive tone make Noct’s skin crawl. If he has to watch Ardyn do lewd acts in order to secure Lucis’ terms of peace, he’s not sure that he’s up for that task. But Noctis only stares as the Chancellor grabs Loqi Tummelt and helps to rid him of his military gear, stripping him down to just his pants and his boots. The smaller blond straddles the eccentric man, and Ardyn wastes no time in pressing those smarmy lips to one of Loqi’s pert, pink nipples. 

Noctis, and his friends, watch in a mixture of weird ( _really weird)_ arousal and confusion as Loqi writhes on Ardyn’s lap. He’s clearly hard, but Ardyn is giving him no sexual satisfaction, only sucking from his pecs. As he pulls away from each one, Noctis notices thick white droplets around his nipples. The Niflheim general is...lactating? Noctis only has one thought: _what the fuck?_

Ardyn pulls back from Loqi’s left nipple after several rounds on each of his pecs, smacking his lips in pleasure. He looks at the four Lucians’ shocked faces and with a smug expression. 

“You seem...confused, dear boy,” says Ardyn, palming roughly over Loqi’s chest, making the young general inhale sharply. “Do you not have milk slaves of your own back in Lucis? What a backwards country, indeed.” 

Noctis sputters. “I—no—what the fuck,” he says. 

Ignis flicks him on the back of the head. 

“Ow, Iggy,” Noctis whines, rubbing his hair. 

Gladio’s only shaking his head and laughing, and when Noctis looks over to Prompto, the blond is...well, that pizza-sauce red blush has reached down to his _forearms_. Noctis looks back at Ardyn and Loqi. 

Ardyn levels that beady-eyed gaze at him again. “Surely a prince such as yourself has someone of your party willing and able to offer themselves to you?”

Noctis clenches his jaw. He’d known that the Niffs were infamous for weird scientific experiments, but _this_...

“We breed only the finest producers of milk in Niflheim,” says Ardyn, not waiting for Noct’s answer or his disapproval. "The strongest, purest hormones are developed by our leading scientists. We have a 95-percent success rate in our clinical trials. It is an honor to be chosen for these enhancements...the common folk are _begging_ to let our noble families drink from their pliant bodies."

Noctis rips his eyes away from where Ardyn has gone back to locking lips around Loqi Tummelt's swollen red nipples and looks at Ignis. 

"You didn't think to tell me about this?" he says as he grits his teeth, face red. 

Ignis adjusts his glasses. "Truth be told, Highness, I didn't think that anyone of note would perform this custom in front of you."

"Yeah, well, you goofed big time," spits Noctis, whispering harshly. "What the fuck am I supposed to do?"

"If you partake with me, dear Prince, I shall see to it that Lucis' terms are honored and that peace will start _immediately_ between our two nations."

Noctis whips his head back to Ardyn. Loqi's crying, throbbing erection evident inside of his white trousers. But Ardyn only palms at his chest roughly, squeezing his pecs until droplets of milk pool at his nipples. 

"You—you mean it?" Noctis doesn't want to believe it, but at the same time, he wants to leave Niflheim and be done with this dog and pony show as soon as possible. 

"These are the terms of peace," says Ardyn with a smirk. He maintains eye contact with Noctis as he licks up the milk dripping down Loqi's chest. 

"Okay," Noctis responds tightly, swallowing hard. "But I, um. Is there...could you provide, someone, I guess to—"

"Noct."

Noct's face heats up. That's _Prompto_. He turns and leans back to look at the blond, seated on the other side of Ignis. 

"Prom?"

"I can do it," he says quietly. So quietly that had someone else been speaking, Noctis wouldn't have heard him at all. 

"...What?"

Prompto's not looking at him—Noctis is looking at Prompto's profile, his built arms and strong, lean frame underneath the tight black Kingsglaive shirt. Ignis has leaned forward over the table, out of his element and angry about it. Gladio leans back to catch's Noct's gaze, and lifts an eyebrow. 

"I said I can, um. Uh." Prompto coughs. "I mean you'd probably have to like...be a little rough with me because I don't stimulate them that much but I can...it's enough to give you a taste. Um. If you want."

"Prompto." Noctis hears the sharp inhale and can see that his best friend's face is a deep shade of pink, as are his sold biceps. Noct wonders if Prom is a full-body blusher. How can tell Prompto that he wants to find out that fact for himself? "Come here, then."

A quiet gasp and then Prompto is lifting his head, his torso, scooting his chair back from the table. He catches Noct's eyes and bites his lip. 

Noctis wants to bite Prompto's lip. He scoots his own chair back and watches in rapture as Prompto slowly peels the military shirt from his body. And then Noctis sees the flesh-colored bandages over Prompto's nipples, and he licks his lips. 

"Ohohohoho, what a turn of events," says Ardyn with a smile. "The prince has his own little milk toy after all. How fortuitous for the Kingdom of Lucis."

"Hey pal," Gladio cuts in. "I'm a Lucian noble, y'know. Don't I get to participate in this?"

"Oh, how rude of me. But of course," says Ardyn. "House Amicitia deserves to know the pleasures that His Radiance's court has to offer." The Chancellor grins widely. "I shall call someone for you immediately."

"Actually," Gladio growls wolfishly. "The little twink on your lap looks like he could use a hand. Unless you're the jealous type, Chancellor?"

"Oh, by all means," purrs Ardyn, slowing his rough handling of Loqi's pecs. "Have your way with General Tummelt. You'll find that he's quite sweet." Ardyn tips his head up to look at the flushed man on his lap. "Now you be a good boy and show Mr. Amicitia the superior technology of Niflheim. I'll see that His Radiance rewards you for good behavior."

Loqi sucks in a breath and frowns, but ultimately closes his eyes and says, "Yes, sir." He stumbles from Ardyn's lap and stands on shaky legs. Gladio slides away from the table and pats his lap. 

"Don't worry, Tummelt. I won't kill ya. Just a few little bites, yeah?"

"Lucian scum," Loqi spits, but straddles the shield anyway.   
  


Noctis looks up to Prompto, who is now standing in front of him shirtless. He takes the bandages from his nipples and puts them into his pants pocket. 

"How?" Noctis says, tilting his head. 

"You know I'm a refugee from Niflheim," says Prompto softly. "Cor rescued me from a research lab when I was a baby. I guess, um. I guess I'd already been experimented on a little."

"Huh," is all Noctis can say. He pats his lap. "Well, you're Lucian to me. C'mon, let's seal this peace treaty."

"Yeah," Prompto breathes, face still red from the eroticism of the last fifteen minutes. He straddles Noctis and loops his arms around his prince's shoulders. 

Noct's hands fly to Prompto's chest immediately, and Prompto's head snaps back, and he lets out a filthy moan. Noctis kneads at the soft, slightly fatty tissue of his pecs for several seconds before ghosting his calloused fingertips over Prompto's nipples. 

"Shit," Prompto curses, chest heaving already. 

"Am I hurting you? Should I stop?" Noctis desperately wants to do this, but he doesn't want to make his best friend feel uncomfortable.

Prompto shakes his head. "No, buddy, you're—fine, it's fine, it just...it feels good."

Noctis hums and gets Prompto's nipples between his fingers, rolling and pinching the pert pink buds until they're hard and stiff. Prompto's jaw is clenched and there are soft tears running down his pretty freckled cheeks. Noctis also doesn't miss the fact that Prompto is hard inside of his tight black pants—and he hasn't even put his mouth on him yet. 

"Surely you've warmed him up by now, Prince Noctis," Ardyn coos. "Why don't you see what he tastes like?"

"Don't rush me," Noctis whispers under his breath. But he leans forward and licks across Prompto's right nipple and he hears muffled shouts coming from Prompto's throat--looking up, he sees that Prompto has his hand over his mouth, and his best friend is _shaking_. Noctis doubles down and puts his whole mouth on Prompto's swollen bud, lapping around it with his tongue and pulling lightly at it with his teeth. When it's as hard as he wants it, he opens his mouth wider and latches on to Prompto's skin, and Noctis begins to _suck_. 

  
  
  


"Ah—ah, fuck, shitting hell—" Loqi Tummelt is a glutton for punishment and is no stranger to hate-fucking, but this is a new low, even for him. To have to service the personal shield of the prince of Lucis, to have his foreign hands and mouth on him...Loqi is glad that only the Chancellor is privy to his embarrassment. The worse thing of all is that Gladiolus Amicitia is making Loqi feel _amazing_. The shield seems to know just how to use his tongue and his teeth to draw the sweet milk out from his abused body, and the way his giant, sword-calloused hands are working over his aching cock is making the young general lose his mind in lust. He's tried to hold back—Ardyn didn't touch him, so Loqi figures that he wasn't allowed to come, even though servicing the eccentric chancellor turns him on in a matter of seconds—but he finds himself careening towards the edge the longer that the oldest Amicitia child sucks the sweetness from his chest. 

Gladio pulls back and looks at the snarky enemy general on his lap. If he squints, Loqi _could be_ Prompto with his hair down, fresh after a shower, pliant and so easy for him. He wonders idly if Noctis would share, or if Prompto would mind letting him have a taste from time to time. Loqi's cock looks small in his hand, and he thinks that the general must be holding back out of sheer pride and stubborness. 

"C'mon Tummelt, show me what you've got," Gladio grunts, increasing his strokes on Loqi's hard length. "You heard your Chancellor. Prove to me that there's something good in Niflheim."

"Fuck— _fuck you, Amicitia—_ oh, gods!—" Loqi whines high and loud as he comes, burying his fingers in Gladio's soft long hair. Gladio latches onto one of his nipples yet again and sucks, drawing out just a few more drops as he milks Loqi's release out of him. He doesn't even care that it's all over his Kingsglaive uniform. 

When Noctis feels the first drops of sweet liquid hit his tongue, he can't help but moan. Does Prompto even know how in love with him Noctis is? Noctis would do _anything_ for Prompto. He'd renounce his title. He'd run away with him to Accordo or Tenebrae or anywhere. If Prompto said "Jump," Noctis would ask how high. Noctis feels himself growing interested as Prompto shamelessly ruts into him. He sucks and sucks, the weirdness of the act long fallen away now that he's doing this with Prompto. He's oddly thankful for Ardyn's weird terms, and hey—even if sucking Prompto's sweet little nipples doesn't net peace between the world's two most powerful nations, hopefully this has opened a door for them to talk about their feelings.

Because Prompto is _clearly_ enjoying this. He's babbling nonsense at a hundred words a minute, whining things like _Oh yes please Noct, take all you want, I'm yours_ and _Harder, harder, that's it baby oh gods_. Noct's mind is reeling. If Prompto's this vocal just from having his tits played with, then he can't imagine the pretty sounds the blond would make if Noctis actually fucked him. He desperately hopes to find out. 

"Are you feeling left out, Lord Scientia?" asks Ardyn from the other side of Noctis and Prompto. 

Ignis shrugs and sips his coffee. He hasn't taken his eyes from Noctis and Prompto. He'd known about Prompto's origins but he never imagined that the Niffs had managed to start experiments on him at such a young age. He wonders if Noctis would let him examine Prompto's ability for himself. For purely scientific reasons. 

"No titles, Chancellor, I'm not of noble blood. Merely a servant to his Highness."

Ardyn chuckles. "Ah, but someday you will be the Hand of the King, will you not? A noble position, if you ask me. Surely the prince cares for you enough to allow you to take your pleasure as well?"

Ignis feels his cheeks heat up. "His Highness commands me," answers Ignis slowly. "If he insists that I refrain from this practice, then so be it. I will not question my liege." 

"Such an obedient dog," says Ardyn, clicking his tongue and licking his lips. 

Ignis bristles but doesn't respond, letting the insult wash over him. He doesn't care what anyone else thinks; only the opinions of his king and his prince matter to one Ignis Scientia. He flicks his eyes to where General Tummelt is slumped over Gladio's shoulder, panting and coming down from the high. Gladio shoots him a wink and Ignis just rolls his eyes. _Shameless_ , he thinks. 

"Noct, buddy," Prompto whines. "I can't hold on, I'm gonna...if you keep doing that..."

Noctis is sucking like Prompto is the sweetest drink he's ever tasted—and he just might be. The milk from Prompto's chest is thick, almost like a sweetened condensed milk. Noctis can't get enough. He hopes that Prompto allows him to drink from his body all the time after this. Noctis pulls away, a string of saliva connecting his lip and Prompto's swollen bud. "You gonna come in your pants, Prom?"

Prompto chokes and nods, grinding down hard against Noct's own aching length. He's ready to blow his own load, and seeing Prompto get off is definitely gonna put him over the edge. Noctis reaches one hand in between their bodies and fumbles with Prompto's belt and pants zipper, moaning into Prompto's chest as his fingers brush against his hot, hard cock. 

"Come on then, Prom. Come for me." Noctis puts his mouth to Prompto's chest again, biting his other nipple as hard as he dares until he feels a gush of milk shoot into his mouth.

 _"Noctis!"_ Prompto screams as he feels Noct's hands on him, pumping his cock. It's better than he ever dreamed. The pleasure-pain on his nipples only makes him come that much harder, feeling Noct's hot, wet mouth around him, drinking from him like he's prized livestock. He comes for what feels like forever, and he vaguely registers Noctis groaning and grinding his own clothed cock against him, spilling into the stupidly hot pinstripe suit he's wearing. 

"Well, I admit, that was a quite a show," says Ardyn, slowly clapping. Prompto hasn't left Noct's lap—he's slumped over one shoulder, content to nuzzle into Noct's neck, peppering him with soft, lazy kisses while Noctis strokes his back. 

Ignis is clearly aroused but has said nothing, only folded one long leg over the other, drinking his fourth cup of coffee. 

Loqi Tummelt is passed out on Gladio's lap, boneless and spent on his so-called enemy, looking incredibly vulnerable and small, half-dressed without all of his armor and weapons. 

Noctis grunts in satisfaction and levels a firm gaze at Ardyn. "You'll sign Lucis' draft of the peace treaty tomorrow?"

Ardyn nods, smirking. "Color me impressed. It seems that Lucians are willing to rise to the occasion after all. Consider it done."

Later that evening, it doesn't take much prodding from Ignis and Gladio before Prompto is offering himself to them, letting them get a taste of the finest milk that Lucis has to offer. 


End file.
